


Baby It's Cold Outside

by blithesea



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: I suck at tags, M/M, kinda fluffy despite the rating?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:12:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithesea/pseuds/blithesea
Summary: The Harringtons are throwing a Christmas party. Instead of resorting to hard drink to survive the night, Steve invites Billy.





	Baby It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lymricks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lymricks/gifts).



> A million thanks to my muse, without whom this thing would still be a document empty but for a festively blinking cursor. love you, bb.

“Yeah, baby, uh, _fuck_ ,” Billy grinds out, hardly knows what he’s saying, because Steve is fucking him hard and good, hitting just the right spot over and over. Only a moment or two later Steve’s hand returning to his cock, thumb brushing over the head, is enough to tip him over the edge. He groans and clenches around Steve, hard, Steve’s cock feeling even bigger now, feeling like he’s deeper than anyone has ever been before. And it’s almost like he can feel Steve coming inside him, feel his hips stutter and push in harder, once, twice, a few times, going at it hard, like a last effort before Steve slumps over him, leans their damp foreheads together, breathing. Billy wriggles closer to brush Steve’s lips with his own. Can’t breathe, but he doesn’t need any air to kiss Steve. Fuck, but it feels like he never has to breathe again.

Steve seems to have clocked out for the time being. He lets Billy’s lips move lazily over his, his mouth just hanging open, breathing hard. Billy can feel every breath Steve takes where they are still connected. Steve’s heart beating fast, Steve’s cock, still half-hard, pulsing. Then gradually everything slows down. Steve blinks, and rolls to the side a bit.

“That was…” he groans, leaning up on his arms a little so they can kiss better. “Fuck, I can’t even think straight.”

“Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people,” Billy gives back, preening a little, and laughs when Steve shoots him a look. Locks his legs to keep Steve close to him when Steve makes a move to draw out of him, though. It feels so good, even just Steve’s cock softening inside him. He can’t remember anyone else’s cock ever filling him so completely. He winks at Steve and clenches around him, just for kicks.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Steve groans, laughing a little. “You insatiable…” Billy cuts him off with another kiss, and he allows it, grinning into Billy’s mouth and pulling them close. They’re silent for another long while, lost in each other’s mouths, before they pull apart again and Steve settles onto Billy’s chest. It’s getting dark, Billy realizes. He sighs. He should probably get going. Just a couple more minutes.

Steve seems to feel what he’s thinking, because he somehow gets heavier on top of Billy, makes it even harder to pull away.

“Hey, are you busy on Sunday?” His voice sounds sleepy, like he’s gonna drift off in a minute. “My parents are having this Christmas party for my dad’s clients... like a dinner party? It’s gonna be boring as hell.”

“You really know how to sell an invitation, Harrington...”

Steve smiles, shrugs. “I was gonna try to wait it out in my bedroom with some movies and stolen rosé, but if you’re up for it… wanna crash a stupid rich people of Northern Indiana party with me?”

“Observe the filthy rich in their natural habitat?” Billy laughs, thinks that either possibility, the party-crashing and elbow-rubbing with some old snobs, or the hanging out in Steve’s room with some wine and snacks to make fun of them sounds good. “I guess I could swing it…”

It sounds a bit different than their usual thing. Billy has been over at the Harrington house lots of times. Never actually had to talk to Steve’s parents, though. Do they even know his fucking name?

Eh. Beats hanging around at home alone that night.

“I work until 4, when do you want me?”

Steve kisses him and bites his bottom lip a little as he smiles.

“People are gonna start getting here around 5, so be just a bit later than that? Y’know, for fashion or whatever,” he suggests, slipping out of Billy unceremoniously and rolling off onto his side with a stretch.

“And um… Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, I swear it’s not a dig, I like your usual look - obviously,” Steve smirks down at their current post-coital situation and presses a kiss to Billy’s shoulder, “but if you need to borrow something to wear…” He glances up at Billy apologetically. “Y’know, so you can blend in. Infiltrate the WASP’s nest more effectively.”

Billy laughs softly. “What, you don’t wanna pass me off as your bit of rough, Harrington? Why don’t you go full My Fair Lady on my ass and teach me how to talk nice, too?”

Steve is looking so chagrined, it’s impossible to be mad at him for the comment. Besides, Billy actually couldn’t give less of a fuck of what some old rich folk think of his dress style. But he does give a fuck about Steve. Just a tiny one, obviously. A barely noticeable fuck.

“Okay, you can lend me some of your rich kid clothes,” he agrees with a sigh and a stretch. “But I bet that’s not gonna work. We’re not built the same way, Harrington. I’d bust out of your shirts.”

Steve shakes his head and leans up on one arm to contemplate his closet from the comfort of his bed.

“That’s a nice way of putting it, Hargrove,” he raises an eyebrow. “But yeah, I’ll keep your proportions in mind, I think I’ll have something that’ll fit. Ooh. I’ve got a shirt that’ll be perfect.” Focused on the closet he tries to get up quickly, but Billy pulls him back down with a smirk and angles his chin for a kiss.

Steve hums and leans into it for only a moment before pushing away again. Billy watches Steve get up and yeah, it’s a nice view. But he hadn’t expected to give up the bed part just yet.

“So you’re really only gonna fuck me once?” he complains, watching Steve dig into his closet. All but vanishing in it. Fuck, is that a walk-in?

“Huh?” Steve asks, sticking his head out. His hair is beautifully mussed.

“I said, I’ll try anything once,” Billy lies, sighing and rolling over to get up to join Steve. “What is that?” he frowns at the fabric Steve is holding.

“Um, linen, I think?” Steve shrugs, and pushes it into Billy’s hands. “I know it’s more of a summer fabric, but we’re gonna be inside anyway… Oooh, hang on.”

He vanishes again, and Billy starts trying on those pants. They fit amazingly well, he notes as he checks out his ass in Steve’s mirror. And they still have a fucking price tag on them.

“Hey, have you ever even worn these?” he asks, and then frowns when he sees the price written on that tag. No wonder Steve wanted him out of his own clothes.

“Here, this shirt, and the blazer,” Steve says and stops when he sees Billy in nothing but linen pants. Smiles. “Hell, yeah.”

And just like that, Billy forgets all about the price tag.

He does feel a little odd by the time he rings the Harringtons’ doorbell on Sunday, though. He had to get dressed in the car (because no way in hell was he going to let his dad catch sight of him in that outfit), and now the shirt feels way too tight, and the cuffs of the blazer too long. He pushes them up to his elbows. Takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. Just once, all respectful and shit.

When Steve opens the door for him he feels a little less out of his element. Steve has dressed up, too, a blazer and shirt that make him look older but still kind of mouthwatering. It’s all Billy can do not to move in and go for a bit of a grope. Instead he grins his best grin, and leans against the door.

“Hey there.”

Steve’s jaw drops a bit at the sight of Billy.

“You were supposed to blend in!” he hisses, stepping out onto the front porch and closing the door behind him.

“Well, hello to you too,” Billy says gruffly. “And what the fuck do you think I’m doing? I’m wearing _pastels_ , man.”

But then Steve steps closer to him and starts doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Alright,” he says, leaning into the touch a bit. “So I underestimated just how stuffy this party was gonna be, apparently…”

Steve is frowning as the buttons on the widest part of Billy’s chest fight him to stay open. “Yeah, it’s my _parents_. Why d’you think I was gonna skip the thing in the first place?” he says, quiet even though they’re alone on the doorstep. He manages to get most of the buttons done, even if it is a bit uncomfortable, but then he spots Billy’s Converse, peeking out from under the hem of the linen slacks, and his eyes widen almost comically with what Billy can only assume is actual terror.

“Oh my god, your shoes. Why didn’t I give you shoes? I’m an idiot. This is stupid. This isn’t gonna work. Shit.”

“Holy fuck, Harrington. Stop freaking out already,” Billy grins and takes Steve’s hand, squeezing it. “You’re way overthinking it, relax. Let’s go in, I’m fucking starving.”

He walks into the house with _panache_ , because, fuck it. He got dressed up for this shit, and he is going to enjoy the hell out of this party even if it kills him.

Inside, he makes a beeline for the hostess, and as usual, his mother-charming skills don’t fail him. By the time he gives her the flowers he grabbed last minute at the gas station — _arranged them yourself? What a great eye for color you have_ — she doesn’t even remember he is underage, and offers him some mulled wine, which he politely declines.

“I’m driving tonight,” he owns. “And I try not to make a habit out of acting like an idiot, you know, any more than I can help.”

He can feel the circle of women around Mrs Harrington draw closer, and smiles, lifts his chin. _Bring it on, ladies_.

Steve seems to keep to the sidelines, watching with wide eyes every time Billy glances over to him, but keeping his distance. He is clutching a glass beaker of that mulled wine like a fucking lifeline.

Keeping up a nice steady stream of small talk is actually easier than Billy would have thought. Sure, some of these people have ridiculous problems, like whether to invest more in ethical stocks or which charities to give to, but some of them are actually relatable, a very select few even a pleasure to listen to. Most of the guests like hearing themselves talk, and Billy only has to invest a bit of curiosity and interest to keep their motors running. He spends a couple of actually engaging minutes encouraging one of the elder ladies talking about her nephew’s struggle to resettle on the west coast. By the time Mrs Harrington asks everyone to the table, he finds Steve leaning against the wall.

“You gonna brood all night, Stevie?” he asks, smiling a bit. “Come on, take your valued guest to the table. I’m starting to miss your woeful mug a bit.”

Steve raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the old lady that Billy had just been sweet-talking.

“You looked like you were having a grand time with Doris over there,” he tries to joke, smiling weakly when Billy mock-punches his arm. “It’s probably too late to make a run for it now, right?”

“And miss out on all this?” Billy purses his lips. “Come on. I could eat a whole reindeer right now.”

As soon as they get into the dining room he can feel Steve stiffen up beside him. The guests are all sitting down at their names written on fancy off-white place-cards. There are really only two empty seats, close to the head of the table. Next to what must be Steve’s dad. Steve has stopped walking, and is looking pale. Only after Billy bumps into him a little he seems to remember how to move his feet. Reluctantly, he leads them up the table and steers Billy to the chair directly to Mr Harrington’s left.

“Dad.”

“Steve?” His father looks up from the other guest he was talking to. Not annoyed that Steve butted in, as Billy would have expected. Just kind of… vague. Like he had to remind himself why Steve was there in the first place.

“This, this is Billy. We— graduated together.” Billy looks at Steve, a little surprised. He had expected Steve to say, _We work together at the Mall_. But a second later he remembers the rumors, back in high school. Steve Harrington and the cushy job his dad was saving for him at his company. Harrington Sr probably hadn’t been too happy about the whole Scoops thing. It irks Billy that he never thought of this before.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Billy nods, deciding not to correct Steve about the how they know each other, even though he suspects that evasion is useless in this case. Steve’s dad is bound to ask what he does for a living sooner or later. Parents of other kids always want to know what your plans are, so they can compare them to their own son’s or daughter’s. And see if you win or lose by comparison.

They don’t get that far in the conversation, though. For one, the food is excellent, and Harrington Sr seems to agree. Both he and Billy are far too busy ladling up the _bouillon_ , while conversation waves to and fro.

“So, Steven,” the woman next to him purrs, and Billy prepares himself for listening to something about gardening, or dieting, or domestics. “What are your thoughts on the president’s stance on…”

Politics. Billy pricks up his ears. This is about to get interesting. Politics, religion and finances are sure to get the tempers flying at this table.

Next to him, Steve shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. And Billy’s own temper flashes up a tiny bit. He hadn’t considered the spirit in which the question was meant. Is she trying to make Steve look uninformed, in front of his parents and their guests?

 _Bitch_ , Billy thinks coldly, and turns around to her, smiling. “Don’t mind me butting in, do you, Steve? In my opinion the only way to deal with the nuclear arms race…”

And he’s off. Makes his point decidedly, and without balking. Rattles off facts and numbers, playing on emotion. We’re young. Is this the state of the world you want us to inherit? Even manages to wiggle in a quote from Oppenheimer without sounding completely pretentious about it. There are a couple of people at the table opposing his stance, but Billy makes sure to argue his case respectfully, and just when he has their balls (and ovaries) in his grasp, the maid arrives with the roast, allowing Billy to step back from the argument gracefully. Perfect.

“Pass the green beans?” he asks Steve pleasantly.

“Marry me,” Steve replies, grinning. Billy snorts and shovels some food onto his plate. Food that will hopefully distract him from the way his ears seem to start burning.

“You just destroyed all of them,” Steve continues just loud enough to be heard over the resuming chatter by Billy but nobody else. “How did you know all that? About the ‘uranium’ and stuff?”

Billy feels a little uncomfortable in the light of Steve’s unexpected admiration.

“I like to read,” he shrugs and starts tearing into the food on his plate. But when Steve’s thigh presses against his own underneath the table, he presses back, grateful. By the time dessert and coffee are served, Steve’s dad is actually laughing at Billy’s jokes, and agreeing with him like they are old friends. Billy keeps sneaking glances at Steve to see if he minds, but Steve finally seems to have unwound a bit. He looks relaxed, When Billy nudges him with his foot under the table, Steve smiles a little into his drink.

After dinner the party fragments a little, people wandering to different rooms or out into the back yard, some couples leaving early. Steve gets called away to meet some of his dad's business partners and Billy feels tagging along would seem silly. He wanders around aimlessly, dipping into one conversation after the other. It surprises him how easily these people seem to accept him there as one of their own. What Steve had called “infiltrating the WASPs nest” has been a fucking cakewalk so far. But one crucial ingredient is missing. The hanging out with Steve to make fun of all the pokey rich people is only half as much fun when there isn’t any Steve to go with it.

So he decides to rescue Steve from whatever boring conversation he's in at the moment. Fake some kitchen emergency or something. There are far too many rooms in this house, and they seem even more numerous without any Steve in them. Finally he catches a glimpse of him talking to his mother. When Steve slips away and descends some stairs, Billy crosses the room to follow him.

Downstairs is not dark and dank, just a modestly-lit passage with a couple of doors, behind one of which Steve has vanished. Billy tries the first, and smiles. Bingo. Steve is standing next to a long line of wine racks, frowning as he seems to try to read a label.

“Hey,” Billy says, pleased for having found Steve. “Upstairs not doing it anymore for you? You’ve come down here to drink alone?”

He slowly walks up to Steve, smirking. “Sad, Stevie. Can’t let you do that.”

Steve whirls around, but smiles when he sees Billy. “I’m not drinking on my own, I’m _fetching more red for mother_ ,” he corrects stuffily, laughing as Billy steps further into the room and leans against a wall near Steve.

“Yeah, well. She’s gonna survive a couple more minutes without red wine, won’t she?”

“ _My_ mom? Don’t count on it,” Steve jibes, making Billy snort. He bumps his foot against Steve’s.

“So why the fuck did you give me hell for my shoes, anyway? Nobody’s even looked at them all night. I’m just gonna come in boots, next time.”

Steve grimaces and puts the bottle he was looking at back on the shelf.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, not meeting Billy’s eyes. “I was just… freaking out a little.”

And that’s an understatement if there ever was one.

“My dad, he’s— Well he’s not my biggest fan. I thought he was gonna see you, and… Just take any opportunity to shit all over me and my life and the people I choose to hang out with. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that. You look great.”

Finally he looks up and smiles at Billy. “More than great, actually,” he admits.

Despite the way Steve has started deflecting, Billy still feels a little sore inside, for Steve's sake. He wants to tell Steve that he understands. That he knows all about _fucking_ fathers. Wants to make him feel better, desperately. He pushes away from the wall he has been leaning against and moves into Steve’s space, puts his arms around Steve’s waist.

“I’m here, just for you,” he says, tries to make it not sound too corny. “I don’t give a shit about any of those assholes up there, your parents included. You’re the only one I dressed up in this ridiculous stuff for.”

Steve makes a sound as if to protest, and Billy smirks. “I know, I can pull it off. But that’s not the point.” He leans in, closer, savoring the distance between them dwindling. Almost close enough to kiss…

“Your dad can go fuck himself,” he says softly, breathing the same air as Steve now. Lips so close they are nearly touching.

Steve smiles then, a goofy, open smile that makes Billy feel too light. He has to lean in, press his body against Steve, to get weighed down just enough. He feels too hot in Steve’s clothes, it must the the tight fit that is making him feel a bit dizzy. When Steve leans in just a little closer, Billy quickly moves in to kiss him, quick and hard and impulsive, then follows it with something deeper. Lets Steve slip his hands up under the linen jacket to play with the soft blue fabric of the shirt that stretched so threateningly over Billy’s chest when it was buttoned, and is probably busting at the seams over his arms even now. Lets Steve’s hand wander over the flattering cut of the slacks, where they hug the curve of Billy’s ass. Steve hums against his lips and pulls away slightly.

“You know what my dad would really hate?”

“I don’t know, pretty boy,” Billy rasps out, though he has a fairly strong idea when Steve pulls him behind a wine rack and starts making quick work of the button and zip of his fly.

“Hang on.” Billy quickly shrugs off the blazer to lay down at their feet before Steve kneels down, to cushion him just a bit against the cold cement. And then Steve is on his knees in front of Billy, in the Harrington’s fucking wine cellar, pulling the borrowed slacks down along with Billy’s briefs. Maybe Steve feels just how hilarious this is, too, because he huffs a laugh over Billy’s bare cock. Then he gives it a friendly tug.

“Already getting hard for me, huh? Enjoying the view?” he fishes, aiming a smirk up at Billy as he leans in to brush his lips over the head.

“Mmmh, you always—” Billy could go into a lengthy monologue about how fucking good Steve looks at any given moment, and how if his level of hotness were the only influencing factor, Billy would be running around with a fucking hard-on 24/7. But all that gets temporarily kicked from his mind when Steve’s lips touch his dick.

Billy carefully cards his fingers through Steve’s blown-out fringe. “Hell,” he mutters appreciatively. “When I first met you I’d never have thought you’d do this… let alone be fucking great at it. You’re a man of hidden talents, Harrington.”

Steve is looking up at him, eyes dancing with mirth as he gets his lips properly around Billy’s cock and sucks him down, buries his face in the dark hair at Billy’s groin, moans a little, like he can’t get enough of it all. It makes Billy almost wish he was drunk now. That would make it easier to not have this end embarrassingly fast. After all the time of secretly carrying a torch for Steve, all the times when he had seen him at school, at basketball practice, looked at those plush lips and wondered what if… Even now that they’ve been fooling around for _months_ , he still can’t quite believe this is actually happening, still feels the urge to pinch himself at moments like this. But then Steve moans around his cock and Billy is pulled into the present as if Steve had him stuck on a fishing hook.

“So beautiful like this,” Billy murmurs, very carefully running his fingers through Steve’s hair, he doesn’t want to ruin the perfectly coiffed ‘do, but he can’t help it. Steve’s hair is as perfect as the rest of him.

“Were you born to go on your knees for me, baby?” He smirks. “King Steve… fuck,” he moans when Steve picks up the pace.

Steve digs his fingers into the flesh of Billy’s bare ass and sucks Billy’s cock down, making Billy’s breathing stutter, and seems determined to make that happen more. Brings a hand up to play with his balls. And when he casts a glance up at Billy’s face, Billy has to bite hard on his lower lip to keep from moaning. Steve groans around the cock in his mouth and closes his eyes as he pulls Billy’s hips into him, the hand on his balls slipping back a little to just tease the rim of his hole.

“Steve, fuck!” Billy grinds out, desperately trying to keep _somewhat_ quiet. “Fuck, keep doing that if you want me to yell the house down...”

His voice already sounds raspy and breathless. Steve doesn’t show any signs of remorse though, and Billy is loving it, caught between Steve’s mouth sucking him down and the finger pressing against his ass, keeping him hooked in one place.

“Wanna fuck me?” he asks, grinning. “I’d let you… I’d let you fuck me right here, in your dad’s wine cellar, leave me feeling your come for the rest of the night… might get some on your pretty slacks though…”

His grin turns into a sigh when Steve moans around his cock and takes one hand off him, reaches down, presumably to open his own fly. Billy peers down but he can’t really see anything, so instead he watches the rhythmic moves of Steve’s arm, pictures him jacking himself off, slowly, unhurriedly. Steve’s eyes are still trained on his face. Then he hums a little, as if to urge Billy on.

“You like that thought, huh?” Billy says, smirking down at him. His aggressive tone softens a little when he looks at Steve, with his gaze so open and full of want. It shouldn’t mean anything, it doesn’t. Steve wants him because he’s hot, and because he’s offering. Nothing more. Only when Steve looks at him like this, it’s hard to remember that sometimes. He cups Steve’s stubbly jaw with his hand, feels Steve turn his head towards the touch, smiling with his eyes. Fuck it. Why does Steve get to make his insides hurt like that, with just a smile?

Billy pushes these unwanted thoughts away, concentrates on what he’s here for, a nice bit of fucking, nothing else, no ridiculous feelings. Just a bit of screwing around to distract Steve from his Christmas blues and those people upstairs. He can do that.

“You better hurry,” he says, biting his lips. “Or someone might come down here to see what’s taking so long with that red wine... and they’ll find you on your knees for me…”

That earns him a groan that he can feel all the way through his body, right down to his toes. He can feel the pressure building, knows he isn’t going to last long at this rate. Tries to hold on for just a little longer. So he can come together with Steve.

“Come on, baby, give it to me,” Billy rasps, resting his other arm on the wall, balling his fist. “Who cares who’s watching? I know you want to…”

Steve makes a sound almost like a growl and pushes deeper down onto Billy’s cock, deep down into his throat, stays there for a few seconds and Billy’s knees actually buckle. “Fuck,” he mutters, pushing back hard against the wall, fighting to stay upright, dimly registers Steve’s eyes laughing up at him. And it doesn’t take much, he can feel his balls seizing up, starts coming hard, and Steve sucks it all down, milks his cock for what it’s worth. Billy moans Steve’s name while his head slumps back against the wall, beat, and he loses the fight against gravity.

“Mmmmph,” he mumbles after the long slow sliding down. Steve looks a little blurry around the edges from this angle, or maybe he’s just gone temporarily blind. Steve is grinning at him, still kneeling and jerking off. He looks far too smug, but Billy is too lazy to do anything about it.

“You broke me,” he complains, making a half-hearted attempt to push himself up on his elbow. To watch Steve, because lust-addled Steve, pupils blown, hair sticking up wild any which way, color high on his cheeks, is something he could watch all day.

“You can still talk,” Steve says, a little out of breath. “Guess I’ll have to… try harder next time…”

“Yeah, I still got _some_ feeling in my legs, you must be slipping…” Billy snorts and pushes himself up to drag Steve down to him, kiss him, the taste of come still filthy-hot in his mouth. He reaches between them, pushes Steve’s hand away and starts jerking him off, firm and a little slow, the way he knows Steve likes it. Smiles into Steve’s mouth when he can feel him shudder and after a little while hot come slicks up his hand.

They slump onto the hard, deliciously cool floor, Billy half on top of Steve, their clothes a hopeless mess. Billy almost wishes someone did walk in on them now. Must be a sight for the gods.

“Okay,” Steve says close to Billy’s ear, his breath tickling. “I think you’ve found a way to make my parents’ dinner parties bearable.”

“Oh, so your grand scheme is to invite me over every time they're having a party in the future for secret blowjobs in the basement?” Billy considers, running his fingers over the side of Steve’s face, catching the hint of sweat at his hairline. His hair is a little mussed, his face is glowing, his eyes are soft and warm. He has never looked more beautiful. “I think I can make time in my busy schedule. You know, if you absolutely insist.”

“Really? You’re so fucking generous.”

“The gift that keeps giving.”

Steve laughs and struggles upright. “You gonna be able to stand up?”

Billy smirks, still a little dizzy from everything that just happened. “Oh, you ask that now? Weren’t you the one blowing my mind, just a minute ago?”

Sitting up is a fucking chore, but Steve is already back on his feet, zipping up.

“And what are you gonna do if I say no, pretty boy? Carry me up those stairs?”

“Mm I might try.” He is brushing a little uselessly at a come-stain on his thigh. “How much do you weigh? 140? I can manage that.”

“Try 160,” Billy snorts. “And in your dreams, pretty boy. You’d drop me before we even make it halfway up. I’d rather not crack my head on those steps, if it’s all the same to you, Stevie.”

He stands up with a groan and a stretch, then gives Steve’s shoulder a friendly clap. “Let’s find some red for your mom.”

“Right. Before the old people upstairs start a riot.”

While Billy picks up his discarded jacket and puts it back on, Steve returns to the wine rack he was standing at before Billy interrupted him, and grabs two bottles of the stuff they save for parties. Billy grabs a couple too, and then they head upstairs.

They are met with a general air of goodbyes in the hallway, people milling to and fro, putting on jackets and coats. Billy and Steve put the bottles down and shrink back a little, try to duck into the kitchen, but it’s buzzing with activity, a couple of maids are busy emptying glasses, shifting remains of _hors d'oeuvres_ onto smaller plates, loading the dishwasher. Steve nudges his chin towards the back door and Billy follows him.

The cool air outside bites at his skin. Billy shoots a quick look around, but they are completely alone. The guests are leaving out of the other entrance, soft sounds of goodbyes wafting through the garden. Back here there’s mostly soft darkness and snow. Billy knows he has to officially excuse himself, soon. Not yet, though. He starts rummaging around in the jacket for a cigarette, until he remembers he left them in the car.

“So.”

“So.”

“Guess I’ll head home now.”

Steve nods, chuckles slightly. “I still can’t believe you let me blow you at my parents’ _party_.”

“ _I_ can’t believe you went for it like that,” Billy gives back smugly, raising his eyebrows at Steve. “Guess you got some fire in you after all, Harrington.”

“Yeah, well.” Steve looks down at the snow at their feet. Billy realizes too late he has strayed from harmless flirtation to stupidly bringing up of long-gone nights of bad stuff he should better have left untouched. He clears his throat.

“Alright, so I’ll see you at work on Tuesday?”

“Sure.”

Steve still isn’t looking at him, so Billy starts digging in his pockets for his car keys and tries to make a halfway graceful exit at least.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” he mutters as he shoulders past him.

He is almost halfway past the pool by the time he hears Steve speak up.

“Hey, Billy?”

It’s a fucking chore not to look too damned hopeful as he looks back.

“Yeah?”

“My parents are throwing a New Year’s party in a couple of days.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Lots of your dad’s clients?”

“Yeah. Speeches, too. Gonna be dull as dishwater.”

Billy smiles.

“Alright. Let me check with my secretary and get back to you.”

 

_fin_


End file.
